Being single doesn’t suck so bad after all…

Shortly after I started this blog, I met someone. We talked online for about a month and met in person on February 3rd. Three weeks ago, he ended it. If I know one thing about myself, it is that I am a bit much for men to handle. I am a pain in the ass. I know it. The funny thing is, after analyzing the relationship a bit, I am pretty sure I would have ended it within a few weeks anyway. I was seeing in him a lot of the things that made me leave my husband. His reasons for ending it were different than mine but…whatever. We were in different places and I had a much larger emotional investment in the relationship than he did. Regardless, here we are. Unicorns don’t exist.

As much as  loved being in a relationship that, to my blind eyes, was near perfect, I am now unattached and surprisingly quite happy and content. Maybe it just hasn’t hit me yet (I seriously doubt that) and maybe I just know it wasn’t meant to be. Whatever the reason, There are things about being single again to love and appreciate.

1. The whole bed is mine again. Let’s face it, all that snuggling and (ahem…) grown up time was awesome. That will definitely be missed. A Lot.  The switch from contact overload to no physical contact will be difficult, but for the first time in a while my bedding will remain in place and the bed will be kept presentable. Maybe. I am not great about making the bed, but at least the sheets will stay where they belong and I won’t have to fight them every night. I don’t know what he did when he was asleep, but the fitted sheet was always ripped up on his side. Now, I can sleep stretched out across the bed again without anyone hindering my splayed position. Oh, But the snuggling….
2. No chewing tobacco. He was always nice enough to not do it around me, or at least he wasn’t obvious about it,  but the habit itself is disgusting. As much as I hate cigarettes and cigarette smoke, I hate chewing tobacco more. Nasty shit in your mouth and spitting. Gross. And then there is the cancer issue. No thanks. Why can’t I find someone who neither smokes nor chews. It seems that those are the only men I seem to meet. Or those with drug histories or legal issues. Maybe those should be deciding factors for choosing someone in the future.  That will eliminate a LOT of men. Not that I am anxious to date again. I am not. I can’t seem to get it right.
3. No more walking on eggshells anymore. OMG. Walking on eggshells with regard to everything you say is exhausting. Don’t offend. Don’t post the wrong thing on facebook. I am kinda like a bull in a China shop sometimes. I can be awkward and clumsy and sometimes the things that I let spill out of my mouth or from my fingers (online) are less than graceful or elegant. Now I am free to dance about the world minus the fragile eggshells that kept me in line. I guess I am lucky that he saw the flawed mess that I am before I got any more serious about him than I already was.
4. No mockery of my condition. I have a pretty decent sense of humor, but even mine has limits. I can laugh about the unfortunate symptoms of my celiac disease and I do it fairly often. But every single day, joking about what I go through. It gets old after a while. After it gets old it starts to sting a bit. I find my symptoms embarrassing and extremely uncomfortable. They really aren’t a joke, but I let it go on. Sometimes his response to a complaint or concern was an obnoxious whining, mocking crying noise and sometimes I was afraid it was real and not a joke. I probably should’ve said something, but see number 3. I didn’t force him to walk on the eggshells he provided for me.
5. Minimal farting. My world is noisy and stinky enough with a teenager and a pre-teen in it, but add a grown adult man who thinks farting all the frickin’ time is funny and you get a testosterone playground filled with the unpleasantness of body odor, smelly feet and rotten eggs. Not to mention the sounds of the farts themselves, and the gut-busting laughs that were sure to follow.
6. No complaining about gluten free food. I know that gluten free foods are not exactly the tastiest creations with the most pleasing texture. I live with it everyday. I don’t have a choice. I have to make the best of a less than ideal situation so I accept what is and find foods that I can eat as acceptable, albeit imperfect, replacements. Complaining about it and showing your disdain for my diet really doesn’t help and kind of makes me feel like shit. Making a face and turning up your nose at my fare while denying what I have to offer adds to the nice little shit pile. No worries. I don’t have to deal with it anymore. Except maybe from my boys, but I expect that from kids. And they really don’t do that anyway.
7. I can start going to the gym again. This is my fault. In part. The last couple of months has been a whirlwind of change and activity. In March I bought a gym membership, went about 8 times and then stopped. I had to look for a new place to live, then I was moving (which takes forever) and cleaning the old place. Then there was the relationship. He came over most nights and I felt guilty about leaving him alone in my place (he NEVER made me feel guilty about it so that is on me) and I craved being around him so I let what I wanted take precedence over what I needed. Now I can go without guilt.
8. No more wondering. If you have ever been in an uneven relationship, you know what it is like to wonder. Do they care about me as much as I care about them? Are they as emotionally invested in this as I am? Will they be there for me the same way I will be for them whenever needed? If you aren’t sure, chances are that answer is no. I knew he liked me and liked the physical part of our relationship, but as far as truly caring about me, I just wasn’t sure. I never heard him say as much. I would tell him I was happy to see him, happy he was here, that he meant a lot to me, etc., and the sentiments were never reciprocated. I think the most I got was “I miss you” and “I can’t wait to see you”.
9. No competing with an electronic device. We are all somewhat addicted to our smart phones, but to varying degrees. I love mine. I admit it. But as for it completely running my life, I can safely put it down with going batshit crazy. The thing does not have to be in my hand being viewed by me every waking moment. Not so true in the ex’s case. We would be snuggling on the couch watching a movie, one arm around me and the phone in his other hand scrolling facebook, amazon, some geek site, etc. I tried so hard to be understanding. He has ADHD and is always doing 3 or 4 things at a time, but when I wave my hand in front of his phone to break the trance, several times in one night, I’d say he is full on addicted. While watching TV, at the table eating dinner in a restaurant, in the movie theater, etc. It was always the most important thing in the room.

There are some things that, at the age of 47, are much better handled than at 27. At 27, I think I would have done anything to make the relationship work no matter how ill-matched the pairing was. I would have forgiven just about anything and worked and tried and ultimately failed, having wasted an ungodly amount of time on someone that was never worth 5 minutes. At 47, I still try to be understanding and I try to make things work, but it is so much easier to walk away because now I understand just how valuable my time is and just how quickly it passes. I don’t want the time that passes so quickly to have been wasted on some butthole. I would rather my time, energy, affection and love be invested in someone who truly deserves it. I have yet to find him. I am not certain he exists. I know that amazing men exist because I have plenty of friends that are married to or dating them, but as for whether or not there is one out there for me, I am just not sure. In the meantime, I am not sitting around waiting for him to show up. I am living my life, doing what I enjoy and spending time with my kids. If I run into him, it won’t be because he can’t look up from his phone. It will be because I have tripped over my own two feet or a crack in the sidewalk. Hopefully, he will be paying enough attention that he will be able to keep me from doing a header on the pavement and busting my face.

Author: fortiesreboot

Nerdy artist. Mom of 3. Discovering life after divorce. View all posts by fortiesreboot